


Home Again

by Djinnaat



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Companionship, Friendship/Love, Romance, ichabbie - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 11:19:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7220260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djinnaat/pseuds/Djinnaat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Incident at Stone Manor, there are revelations and comfort as Ichabod and Abbie realize what they mean to one another.  A continuation/fix-it for what occurred after this episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Again

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Nerdy Girl Express. Following quote (in italics) from Sleepy Hollow, For the Triumph of Evil: "The things one most tries to hide are often the things most easily seen…"

HER

It was a big letdown. A moment that would never come again. A missed opportunity. Ichabod could have kicked himself. What was he thinking? Holding her hand like a love-struck teenager, when he really wanted to shout to the heavens, “My soul has returned!” But he lost his nerve. He let the presence of their friends, their family cow him. He had held his Lieutenant many times; he remembered the feel of her hair, the scent of her shampoo, her womanly curves, her soft gaze that spoke volumes. This was the first time, though, he knew. Deep in his very soul, his very essence. He KNEW. Oh, he had inklings of it before, the emotions flowing over him like a cool summer night’s breeze, emotions he had long denied. Now he could admit it. He loved her. Not the platonic love he had for Miss Jenny, who was like his long-lost sister. Not the love he felt for his kin, for father or mother or child. Not even the love he had for his late wife, Katrina, the enchantress, the fallen. This was altogether different. Although it burned with the same kind of heat he once felt for his departed wife, the intensity took his breath away. He had never felt this way about anyone. And, now that he was being honest with himself, he had felt it for some time. Sometimes it was a touch of her hand or a whiff of her cologne. Other times, it was the look in her milk chocolate eyes when she didn’t think he was looking.

“Crane, what’s going on?” Abbie asked as they got up from the dinner table, her curls still damp from her shower earlier that evening.

“Nothing, Lieutenant, just reflecting on our latest encounter with evil,” he said, putting the dishes with their half-eaten dinners on the kitchen counter

“I know,” she sighed, “we can’t seem to catch a break.”

As they cleaned their dishes, they lapsed into a comfortable silence. When did they become so attuned to one another, Ichabod thought? Theirs was an easy friendship, filled with jokes and teasing, yet at the same time, full of unspoken emotion.

Finally, with all the dishes dried and in the cabinet, it was time to retire for the night. They had both been through unimaginable horror. She had been trapped in a supernatural time-warp, with weeks seeming like months, alone in a nightmare scape which was home to their arch-enemy, The Hidden One. After a month of agonizing loneliness, he found a way to Abbie by releasing his astral self. The evil Pandora had found them and severed the tether to his soul, and he was immediately immersed in a dark, timeless limbo. Somehow, though, he and Abbie had found one another yet again.

He accompanied her up the stairs; he wasn’t sure if she had a steady footing yet, and he didn’t want to take any chances. As they neared her room, she looked up at him with a look that he rarely saw: she was afraid.

“Lieutenant, what’s wrong?”

Lowering her eyes, Abbie studiously observed the patterns on the floor.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she finally replied.

“Do what?” Crane asked in response.

“Sleep,” she said.

For a moment, they both just looked at the floor, each not knowing what to do, what to say next.

Finally, Crane found his voice. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

Again, those liquid eyes stared at him, this time, in relief.

“Yes, please,” she said. Then hurriedly, she rushed on, “I know this is probably uncomfortable for you. I mean, it’s okay, really, I’ll be fine. I know that you don’t do this type of thing, I mean, it’s not like we’re man and wife or anything, and…”

“Abbie, stop,” Crane interrupted, putting his hand on her shoulder. “You have been through a great ordeal, truth be told, we both have. I would perhaps appreciate some company as well. I will return anon.”

Abbie nodded, somewhat embarrassed, but relieved. She was always the strong one, and knowing that she needed to lean on Ichabod, or anyone for that matter, went against the grain. Still, she was so tired…

A moment later, Crane returned in his nightshirt. Abbie stifled a giggle, and he gave her a mock frown of disapproval. God, he thought, how he missed her.

As they entered the room, they both looked at the bed in the middle of the room, each thinking, “what am I doing?”

Finally, Abbie asked, “soooo, which side do you prefer?”

“Please, you tell me, Lieutenant. I am most concerned for your welfare and comfort,” he replied.

Silently, she went to the left side of the bed, pulled back the cover, and slipped underneath. It wasn’t lost on Crane that she did this as gracefully as she did everything else; her given name was most appropriate. Also not lost on him were her long, bronze legs… much longer than one would expect for such a petite woman. Her rounded curves were barely visible under the oversized aqua sleepshirt, a shirt almost the color of his eyes.

“Are you warm enough, Lieutenant? Shall I fetch more bedclothes?”

“No, Crane, I’m good, thanks,” she replied.

As they lay there, their minds raced. They each were keenly aware of the other’s presence; it was a first for them, being in such close proximity, in such an intimate setting. They felt vulnerable. Yet, at the same time, there was a peacefulness. They each realized that this was where they belonged, here with one another. It was then that Abbie broke the silence.

“Crane, will you hold me?”

Reaching for her in the darkness, Ichabod took her in his arms, positioning her head on his chest. During her ordeal, her hair had reverted to its natural texture, a texture very similar to that of her sister, Jenny. He enjoyed the new feeling of the curls tickling his nose as he leaned his head down. A new feeling, but the same, familiar scent.

Her hand rested on his chest, and he took her hand in his. So small, he thought, yet possessing such strength. She never ceased to amaze him. When he first saw her, what seemed a lifetime ago, he was struck by her exotic (at least to his eyes) beauty. Her flawless mocha skin, petite, yet womanly form, full, pouty lips, and those eyes! The eyes of a Houri: deep, expressive eyes the color of fine Belgian chocolate. Eyes that looked at him with disbelief and fear, yet, at the same time, with a certain warmth and sensual interest.

Through the years, he grew to respect her no-nonsense outlook on life, her dry sense of humor, and her unfailing commitment to their cause. He knew he was not worthy of her love, but yet, the naked adoration he sometimes saw in her eyes made him feel like a king. If a good woman is more precious than rubies, then Grace Abigail Mills, his Lieutenant, his partner in all things, was spun of the finest silver and gold.

As his hand caressed hers, he could tell that she was far from asleep. Perhaps pondering how they got there, the same as he. It was then that she spoke…

“Thank you for being there for me, Crane,” she whispered softly.

“It is with the greatest pleasure that I am able to provide you some measure of comfort, Lieutenant,” he replied.

For a moment, silence again enveloped the room. Then finally, he spoke.

“Abbie, I have something I need to tell you, that I could not find the courage to tell you in the Archives,” he said.

“Tell me,” she replied.

_The things one most tries to hide are often the things most easily seen…_

“You are my better half, Abigail Mills, and I would be remiss if I did not tell you. I am inexorably and irrevocably in love with you, and I have been for some time,” he whispered into her hair. “I have felt this growing for some time, but having lost you and, by some gift of Providence, finding you again, I felt compelled to share this with you.”

Abbie softly pressed his hand to her face. It was then that he felt the moisture on her face and knew that she was crying.

“Abbie, I am so sorry. How dunderheaded of me to burden you with my feelings, now, of all times. Please forgive me, dear friend,” he said, embarrassment evident in his voice.

He then felt, rather than saw, her smile.

“You are dunderheaded, Crane. I’m not crying because I’m sad, I’m crying because I have been waiting for you to finally figure that out,” she replied.

She brought his hand to her lips, brushing her soft lips across his knuckles.

“I love you, Ichabod, and I think I always have. From that first day we met, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. You kept me sane, Crane, when I thought I was never going to return to this world. You were my lifeline. I knew you would come for me,” she said tearfully.

They turned to one another silently in the darkness. Ichabod gently ran his hand up and down her back as her tears subsided, making soft, cooing noises against her hair. Her small frame was soft and warm against his long, rangy body. She felt right. She felt like home. The blackness that had enveloped him as his soul had drifted through time and space left him. For the first time in a long time, he was at peace.

“What do we do now?” he asked quietly.

There was no response. She had fallen asleep. He smiled and surrendered himself to Morpheus’ embrace as well.

HIM

She was looking at him sleeping, thinking to herself, “how did we get here?” How did this strange, wonderful man crumble her defenses, defenses she had spent a lifetime cultivating? It would be easy to say it was because they were both Witnesses, that they shared an uncommon bond preordained from the beginning of time. That would be too easy. Just because you were colleagues, even colleagues battling for the salvation of the world, didn’t mean you had to fall in love.

He’s in love with me. She had to let that sink in. When she woke up, she had to mentally shake herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. This beautiful, complex, strong, and did she say, strange man was in love with her. As she watched his chest rise and fall in the moonlight, she thanked God, Providence, the stars, whoever brought her back to him. For so many days, weeks and months, the memory of those twinkling blue eyes, those clipped, British tones, and that long, elegant body of his kept her focused. He was so much a part of her that she didn’t remember life without Crane. Silly, intense, brilliant, otherworldly Crane. HER Crane.

She remembered the first time she saw him. Still in shock after losing her mentor/father figure/FRIEND, August Corbin, she saw this bedraggled, dirty, confused man for the first time. Still, even through all the dirt, she was struck by his beauty. The aquiline nose, bright blue eyes, and silky brown hair. The long, lean, lightly muscled body clothed in some ridiculous colonial costume. The piercing gaze, his eyes never leaving hers. They had a connection even then. And when she found out that his wife was still alive, the disappointment shocked her.

Still, their friendship developed, and her feelings along with it. Oh, she tried to push her feelings for him to the side, both out of respect for his marriage and for fear of getting close to anyone. She knew that being close to anyone only spelled trouble, and she had had enough of that in her short lifetime. Still, she was drawn to him.

When he came for her in Purgatory, and then later inadvertently killed his wife trying to protect her, it took everything within her not to tell him how she felt. And when he walked away after that, something in her died.

Quantico was good for her; finally realizing her dream of becoming a federal agent gave her a great deal of satisfaction. It didn’t hurt that a certain handsome young recruit was there to share this experience with her. She didn’t love Danny, at least not in the way she loved Crane, but he was GOOD for her. They shared the same drive, the same mindset, the same sharp intelligence. They could help one another, and they enjoyed each other’s company.

Then she got the call. The call that brought Crane back into her life. When she saw him, there were so many emotions that hit her all at the same time: relief; sadness; joy; anger; peace. He was back. And then, back they go, back into their supernatural crime-fighting mode.

Time passed, and their bond grew even stronger. I guess this really isn’t a surprise, she thought. She was beginning to see it, although she didn’t want to admit it. It was so much easier to laugh it off, take things lightly, and move on. It’s what she always did, right?

“Penny for your thoughts, my love,” Crane said.

Abbie was so lost in thought that she didn’t realize he was awake and was watching her.

“Well, my thoughts are probably worth about that much,” she joked. “I’m still getting used to the ‘my love’ part, but I think I like it,” she said, smiling.

While they were asleep, they had moved apart, and Ichabod closed the distance between them, taking Abbie in his arms.

“Well, Lieutenant, you just better get used to it, because you will be hearing it a lot more often,” he retorted, causing both of them to break out into a fit of laughter.

As he did before they drifted off to sleep, he caressed her back and shoulders, his long fingers soothing her through her thin nightshirt. Her heart started beating faster, and she could feel the heat creeping up, all the way from her toes to the top of her head. Good grief, she thought, this man has NO idea what he is doing to me!

She returned his embrace, mimicking his caressing movements, running her hands lightly over his back. She could hear his breath catch in his throat as she grazed her nails lightly over his thin cotton nightshirt. It felt good to have some power over him, to finally be able to counter the power this man had over her.

She felt him shift, and he positioned himself so he could reach down to kiss her. Here we go, she thought! Then when his lips met hers, all she felt was sheer, utter bliss. All that existed were his warm, firm lips, his breath mixing with hers, and the minty taste of his toothpaste. They stayed like this for what seemed like forever; when he finally raised his head, they were both out of breath. He was holding her so tight she could barely breathe, and she loved it. His actions matched the heartfelt, loving words he spoke earlier that night. Good Lord, I love this man, she thought.

Just then, a shiver went down her spine. Whenever she opened herself up to love, she ended up being hurt. Badly. But then Ichabod brushed the back of his hand against her cheek and whispered, “I love you so much, my beautiful Lieutenant,” and she let out a deep sigh. We’re going to be all right, she thought. We’re going to be all right. Then he began to kiss her again, and she smiled against his lips. I’m going to be all right. I love you, too, Crane.


End file.
